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Millions tuned in last night to watch a flamboyantly decorated war hero thrice wounded by your catty remarks give an impassioned speech about the trials and tribulations of being a closeted homosexual serving under Bush's barbaric "Don't-Ask-Don-t Tell policy". He was just about to launch into a long, lingering lament on how impossible it is to find a decent nail salon these days when he was rudely interrupted by what appeared to be a GOP presidential debate.

"Why do you think that American men and women in uniform are not professional enough to cater to my needs,” retired Brigadier General Keith H. Kerr pondered rhetorically, when Anderson Cooper and eight Republican stooges burst into the studio and attempted to drown him out by debating each other on a variety of issues that had nothing to do with the Colonel at all.

The Homophobe Party has always been known for its hatred of the GLBTH Community, but I've never before seen them flaunt their bigotry in front of millions of witnesses. And hogging the Admiral's airtime that way just to make some sort of selfish political statement!

Associated Press Writer
(AP) - A man fatally shot his girlfriend and then killed himself as she
was opening a lingerie store in a shopping mall Tuesday, police said.

The man apparently confronted the woman as she was raising the security
gate at the Body Luxuries store, said Houston Police Lt. Albert
Mihalco.

The woman was the only employee present at the store
in the Greenspoint Mall. After they struggled, the man moved the woman
into a back room of the store and shot her in the head, Mihalco said.
She was found wearing only a bra and panties.

"There was a struggle in the back room," Mihalco said. "I'm not sure if he tried to rape her or what was going on."

Seconds after the woman was shot, the man walked behind the counter and shot himself in the head, Mihalco said.

Before the shooting, the man had pulled the security gate back down,
barricading the two of them inside the store, said Jocklynn Keville of
the Greenspoint Management District.

Police did not immediately identify the two.

The shooting was reported at 10 a.m., when most stores were still
closed. Police armed with helmets and shields surrounded the store
before discovering the bodies.

Employees said they were just
starting to open their stores when a security guard ran down the
corridors, pounding on gates and doors and telling everyone to
evacuate.

"I just left my coat and got out," said store clerk Deborah White.

The Greenspoint Mall is located a few miles from George Bush Intercontinental Airport.

It's a tragedy, no doubt about it. However, the real story here is not the shooting, but that little nugget hanging like a dangleberry from the bottom of the article.

We get our fair share of "murder-suicides" here in rainy Seattle, yet the papers never feel compelled to print the distance of the crime from the local airport. It's irrelevant. Unless, of course, you want to plant a suggestion in the minds of the readers that George Herbert Walker Bush was somehow involved!

It's a gross insult to intelligence of everyone who relies on the AP for their historically unbiased coverage of news events. And when you consider that in all likelihood it was Junior himself who was responsible for the shooting, it downright makes your blood boil. Even more so when you realize that he set his very own father - an elderly man of eighty-some years and Bill Clinton's fishing buddy - up to take the fall.

I'm fully aware of the well-documented link between violent crime and airports named after Republicans, but this is a classic case of right-wing media misdirection, pure and simple. The AP should either print an immediate retraction or correct the article by noting the distance between the scene of the crime and Dumbya's ranch in Crawford.

As you can probably guess, I'll be spending today under my kitchen sink, stabbing myself in the thigh with a rusty fork as penance for over 200 years of white male hegemony. So in lieu of posting anything original, I present my award-winning post on the true meaning of this terrible day. This is no simple rehash, either. It's the Director's Cut. That is, I've actually gone through and corrected the spelling errors. - Keep hope alive. LC

As we know, the tradition of Thanksgiving began when the Mayflower
landed on Malcolm X, near what is present day Cape Cod, Massachusetts.
Fed up with the hegemonic stranglehold the Church of England had on
their lives, a small band of progressive Christians sailed across the
Atlantic to establish a New Eden in the New World, where gays could
marry, women had a Right to Choose, and the only form of currency was
Love.

Indeed, the pilgrims had finally found their Utopia, a place where
they could experiment with conscience-expanding drugs and enjoy casual
sex without being glowered at by judgmental old fuddy-duddies.
Unfortunately, they spent so much time exercising their newfound
freedoms that they didn't get any planting done, and soon found themselves no food
reserves for the approaching winter. Without a Patient's Bill of
Rights, thousands died from hunger and disease, and hundreds more from
the lack of affordable health care.

The indigenous peoples took pity on the pilgrims and brought them
bushels of maize, berries, and deer turds, but the natives' strictly
vegetarian diet didn't agree with the bizarre, meat-eating Europeans.
Faced with starvation, the colonists unanimously agreed to eat the
Indians. For the next six months, they ate the Patuxets, the
Narragansetts, and the Erectorsets almost to extinction. They
justified their hideous crime by convincing themselves that the
dark-skinned savages posed an imminent threat, and had arrows of mass
destruction. This pleasant fiction lasted until the NicNacs and the
Paddywacs banded together with the Mohawks and the Pompadours, exacting
revenge on the pilgrims and inflicting severe casualties.

An ignorant baboon with a short temper, Capt. Myles Standish
exploited the pilgrims' fear of another Indian attack to impose a
fascist theocracy on the colony. Backed by a junta of gun-toting
puritans, Standish enacted the highly controversial US Mayflower Pact,
rescinding all civil rights and granting the Church power to inspect a
colonist's library records without a court order. Standish spent the
next four years waging an illegal war for gravy, alienating our Nez
Perce allies. But it wasn't until Chief Iacocca ordered the Pontiacs
and Cadillacs to drive the pilgrims out of Dodge that the cannibalistic
orgy of death was brought to an end.

So when your naive, pasty-faced brats come home from school this
week wearing their cute little construction paper hats, gently
take them aside and explain the truth about this evil holiday:
Thanksgiving dinner is not a reinactment of a bountiful harvest feast
shared with friends, but the symbolic consumption of a murdered
Indian's flesh to celebrate the cannabilistic genocide of America's
indigenous peoples.

When speaking to some New Hampshire high school kids this week, Sen. Barack Obama took the opportunity to fondly reminisce about his youthful "experimentation" with drugs. It was a defining moment for many of the students; especially for the stoners who had been taught since elementary school that drugs would fry their brains and ruin their lives. Imagine their surprise when they learned that they were not losers, but rather amateur scientists conducting important research into how much drugs someone had to ingest before they'd turn into a Liberal Democrat.

The reTHUGlicans are beating Obama up for his honesty, but it's only because they fear science. They've been telling our kids for years that drugs are bad for them, along with underage drinking and sexual promiscuity. In reality, experimenting with drugs is just a part of the learning process that all kids go through.

I just wish I had known this back when I was experimenting with LSD. I would've paid closer attention to what the purple squirrels were telling me.

An Oregon 1st-grader was suspended this week for drawing a stick figure performing an act of violence upon another stick figure. I don't know how he got off with such a slap on the wrist, but both stick figures were White so I guess it can't be prosecuted as a hate crime. Nevertheless, the whole ordeal has the Reich-wingers throwing their predictable tantrums. It's an example, they claim, of political correctness gone amuck, and a public educational system that has surrendered common sense to hysteria. But as usual, they've missed the point entirely.

The child's crude sketch is merely a symptom of his psychosis - the beginning stages of his spiraling descent into madness. Today he's simply scribbling with his pencil, but tomorrow he'll be adding color to his violent imagery with Crayola crayons. From there he'll progress to magic markers, then expensive technical pens, and possibly even an airbrush purchased through the Art Show Loophole. Then one day we'll read in the papers about the stash of illegal art supplies the authorities found in his bedroom, but by then it will be too late. He'll already have a career in the comic book industry.

The poor boy's mother and father may not have the necessary parenting skills to chemically lobotomize him before he can do himself serious harm, but the school district has the safety of their students to consider.

Think of all the feelings that could have been spared, and trees saved, if someone had the foresight to take a young Jack Kirby's crayon's away before he could threaten anyone with them.

As some of you have already guessed, the previous post was simply a cheap ploy to elevate Hillary's website to the top of the results when people google "Lyle Alzado's Testicles" on a Friday night.

I've made secret that I'm a supporter of the Senator and will do anything in my power to insure that she gets the attention she is often deprived of by today's right-wing controlled media. Lately, I've noticed that her website has plummeted dramatically on Google, Yahoo, and Dogpile when conducting a search for "Lyle Alzado's Testicles". I'm at a loss as to how this happened, but frankly I suspect Republican dirty tricks. If I have to resort to the same dirty tricks to repair the damage they have wrought, then so be it.

Of course, there are those who will suggest that I have jeopardized my credibility as the blogosphere's preeminent Progressyve pundit with this little stunt of mine, and that by posting an image of Lyle Alzado's Testicles -

I've not only blatantly breached blogging etiquette but possibly violated a few decency laws to boot. To them I say: if loving Hillary is a crime, then I plead GUILTY AS CHARGED. My only regret is that Lyle Alzado had but one pair of testicles to give his country.

I was Googling "Lyle Alzado's Testicles" this evening - you know, a typical Friday night - when I stumbled upon something that shocked and disgusted me.

Those of you with small children or an aversion to images of severely atrophied gonads might want to skip past the following photo.

Yes, that one.

Hard to look at, perhaps, but necessary in order to understand the full depth of Bush's depravity. For this image of Lyle Alzado's testicles, taken shortly after the football star's death in 1992 by complications resulting from excessive steroid use, reveals something about our sitting peeResident that we all suspected but were unable to prove until now.

Go ahead. Look again.

Closer.

CLOSER!!!

Notice something strange about Lyle Alzado's testicles? Lyle Alzado's testicles are (basically) white! Bush was willing to turn the other way while Lyle Alzado ingested enough steroids to turn his once mighty testicles into shrivelled little raisins - but he sends Barry Bond's black balls up the river for forgetting that he unknowingly juiced a little bit back in 2001.

It retrospect, it probably wasn't the brightest idea to protest Bush's Illegal and Immoral War on one of the most jingoistic days of the year. But when I heard that the military was smuggling military supplies into one of our military bases, I couldn't just sit idly by and allow it to happen. Every pair of GI socks that passes through our ports only prolongs the bloodshed in Iraq.

So I called all of my friends together for a day of peaceful protests at our state capitol. Unfortunately, neither of them could afford the gas to drive us all the way out to the Port of Olympia (thanks to Bush), so we wound up at the Port of Seattle instead. After an hour or two of screeching at tourists coming off the ferries, word got down to us that despite our valiant effort the war still raged on. Bush hadn't budged an inch. Discouraged but not disheartened, we decided to take five and reformulate out strategy.

"This isn't working, people!" I shouted through my bullhorn in exasperation. "Come on! We're not stupid Neanderthal repugs, here! We're highly intelligent Progressives educated at some of the finest universities in the country. I want some brilliant, creative ideas for stopping this terrible war and I want them right now!"

Ted Merrier cautiously raised his hand.

"Dude," he duded. "Why don't we throw stuff at police officers?"

"Like what kind of stuff?" I asked.

"I dunno," he shrugged. "Kittens maybe?"

Ted is a recovering heroin addict with a Masters in Greco-Roman Jello Wrestling and Paleolithic Phlegm Prognostication from UC Berkeley, so I would've been a fool to simply reject his idea outright. It certainly had potential, but I wasn't too keen on using kittens. Why should more innocents suffer for Bush's lies? "Instead of throwing kittens," I suggested,"let's try to think of something more "inanimate" to toss at the pigs. Anyone?"

"How about a Barcalounger?" came a shout from the back of the crowd.

"Better," I replied. "But at your age, I doubt you could lift a Barcolounger, let alone huck one farther than your own toes. Nice try though, Congressman McDermott. But we need something a little more portable. Ted?"

"Dude," Ted whined, "you already called on me."

"There are only three of us here, Ted, and Congress McDermott has nodded off again."

Ted opened his mouth as if to say something, but it was only a belch.

"Come on people! We represent the brightest Progressive minds in Seattle. If Al Gore can change the planet's weather patterns with a slide show, surely we can come up with something to throw at the cops that will end Bush's Illegal and Immoral War once and for all. THINK, damn you! Put those fancy college degrees to work and THINK!"

"Rocks?" Ted squeaked.

"Excuse me?"

"How about we throw rocks at the cops?"

Of course! It was brilliant! Why didn't I think of it before? I must be getting a little Conservative in my old age. Sure, the fascists would probably arrest us for it, but the welfare of our troops is more important than adding another minor infraction to page 17 of my arrest record. Perhaps if we threw enough rocks at cops, Bush would have no choice but to end the war and bring our brave soldiers home before they can rape and murder any more Iraqi children.

The only problem was that we hadn't seen a single police officer all morning, save for a couple of bike pigs who zipped past us on their way to popping a drug dealer who lit up a cigarette a couple of blocks down. Damn it, there's never a cop around when you need to assault one!

So I got out of jail today no worse for the wear, if not a little wiser, for I learned two very vaulable lessons: One, gas masks don't protect you against being kneed in the groin by an angry bull dyke, and Two, freedom of speech no longer exists in this country.

Congressman Dennis Kucinich briefly stepped away from his mashed-potato sculpture of Devil's Tower to publicly denounce Bush as "mentally ill" for suggesting that a nuclear-armed Iran could spark World War III. We've known for years that Bush is stupid, but now there's little doubt that he's also one hooker short of a Kennedy Family Reunion.

Certainly no one wants Iran to obtain nuclear weapons. But there's absolutely no reason to believe that even if it did, our two countries couldn't still live together in peace and harmony under Sharia Law. Bush may be too much of a fruitloop to dream such an impossible dream, but I bet Kucinich could make it happen. It's called diplomacy, folks - the same kind of diplomacy he used to free the green-skinned slave women of Orion and end the Argon Wars. It's all right there in Mork's report to Orson if you don't believe me.

Dennis Kucinich. Brilliant, brave, ready and willing to push aside his invisible friends and save this nation from the madness of King George.